


The Ox and the Lamb

by sunshinelemonaid



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gen, did you know that asexuality is a thing?, fluff is going to abound, guess what both Adaar and Josephine are ace in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinelemonaid/pseuds/sunshinelemonaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(working title by the way)</p><p>Zhaleh Adaar was only doing her job.<br/>She never meant to cause a holy war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ox and the Lamb

It burns. It burns it burns it burns. She lifts her hand to scrape at the pain, scratch it away, but finds she cannot.

Gold eyes open, and the qunari realizes she is bound in chains and stocks, like a wild animal—a bitter smile. Of course they would bind her like the animal they consider her. She tests the bonds, knowing the wood would be far too easy to snap in half, but the chains in the mortar of this building would give her problems.

She glances warily at either side, guards flanking her, swords drawn. Her head jerks up when the doors open, and their swords aim towards her throat.

She squints into the bright light from the door, and her eyes have just readjusted when a shadow falls over her.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” someone snarls, walking around her. “Everyone at the Conclave is dead—everyone but you.” Her bonds are grabbed roughly, and it is a shock.

“Dead… All those people, dead?” There is true despair in her eyes. She had gone to protect, to guard. What had she done?

“Explain this,” the warrior snarls, grabbing her wrist roughly; she bites back a small cry of pain, her nerve endings on fire.

“I-I don’t know what it is!” she pleads, clenching her eyes shut when her hand is allowed to thud back to the stone, only causing her more pain.

“You are LYING!” the woman roars, grabbing her by her collar; another hand pushes her away, saying firmly, “We need her, Cassandra!”

“Do you remember what happened? How this all began?” This voice is much gentler, sincere—but she remembers her favorite little elf and those knives she hid. This is someone who would kill her if she gives the wrong answer.

“N-no,” she confesses.

“No?” demands Cassandra, the other giving her a glare.

“I just… I can’t remember anything but…” Silver brows furrow. “I was running—things chasing me—and… A woman?”

“A woman?” The hooded one seems intrigued.

“Yes,” she confirms. “But that’s all I remember, I’m sorry…”

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” Cassandra commands suddenly. “I will take her to the rift.”

“What… What did happen?” A horned head tips up to look at her, and Cassandra kneels down to undo her chains.

“It would be easier… To show you,” she sighs heavily, pulling the qunari up and binding her hands with rope.

“I’m Zhaleh, by the way—“

“I know,” Cassandra says shortly, beginning to lead her. An ox pulled off to slaughter. The thought makes Zhaleh’s lips twist in a bitter smile.

She squints in the harsh winter sun, raising her hand to block some of it out—and then pain, like never before explodes through her body, making her scream and collapse. It is blinding, searing agony, her body begging for release, be it of this pain or from her mortal coils.

She pants, trying to recover, while Cassandra says something to her—it all falls on cotton filled ears, except for one thing.

“It is killing you.” The genuine fear in her eyes tells Zhaleh that this is something far beyond anything she has ever handled before—no one can help her now.

She was never afraid to die, not while fighting other children for scraps to bring home to mother and father, and not when she did her mercenary work. But now? This cursed mark would kill her, eat her up, take over her body until she was consumed in a flash of green flame, such as the one that glowed within her palm.

This was not a thing within her experiences. She agreed to help Cassandra, no matter the cost; she supposed it was her fault this mess had happened.

She stretched out her arms and legs when she was freed from her bonds, standing two heads taller than Cassandra—it would be an easy match, if not for the guards glaring suspiciously at her.

Zhaleh squints up at the rift, before leading the way forward.

She will save the people who accuse her or she will die trying.

There is no other way.


End file.
